


him

by MisSuzyQ



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Loss, M/M, Sad, computer, gets happier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisSuzyQ/pseuds/MisSuzyQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a drastic event in his life, Soldier discovers something that could turn him back around. Inspired by the movie, <em>her</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guess Things Happen That Way

**Author's Note:**

> It's sort of an AU. I think. More tags and rating will come as/whenever I move the story along.
> 
> Started this after I first saw the movie a few months ago after I first watched _her_. Haven't finish this story but I know it'll be a long thing. Just posting what I got to see what interest there is for this sorta story. Plus, I got it so I might as well post it!
> 
> Oh yeah. In my fanfictions, I usually have Pyro as Engineer's roomie and a basset hound named Betsy Ross that lives with Engineer,too. Because I want to focus more on a relationship between two characters, I'm going with the idea that Engineer lives alone. Sad day, I know, but I feel that it will add more without Pyro and Betsy (or maybe they'll just be staying in with someone else...if I think of something, I might include them. I do love my doggie OC.).

Everything was as Engineer had left it. Tools within their designated spots, blueprints rolled up and stored in their cubbyholes, and an organized mess on the metal table. Soldier didn't bother to turn on the lights when he entered the workshop. The dim sunlight peeking through the windows was already too bright. Due to multiple cases of him accidently distracting Engineer by trying to press buttons and intentionally distracting Engineer by running hands and lips over his clothed body, Soldier was not allowed in the workshop. But Engineer wasn't inside. There was nothing holding him back from entering with a bottle clutched to the coat of his black suit. 

Soldier had already roamed the house hand-in-hand with Jack Daniel’s, an old friend who had been waiting for him in the cabinet. Everywhere he looked, there were no tools of escape. They were all missing from Engineer’s usual hiding spots. All he had to aid him was Jack. Even before the first whispers of Jack, he could hear everything rattling with memories: the table, the bookshelf, the couch, the foundation of the house itself. The memories were a river, an endless hushed flow of a happier days long gone. Each ripple clunked painfully against his very being. Jack did all he could to help. The first thing Jack told him was, _knock over the bookshelf and it will stop_. Desperate, Soldier toppled the bookshelf over but he could still hear it. Hear him. So he flipped the table, then the dining room chairs, then anything he could find that could be pushed or thrown. All between the bitter taste of Jack’s advice. Though everything was either upon its face or broken, he still heard the song of a joyous past, roaring like a waterfall. Jack said, _punch the walls and it will stop_. With all his might, Soldier drove his fist through the wood of the nearby wall. It was as if the walls were a dam for more painfully wonderful memories leaked through the hole onto the floor at a ferocious speed. Again and again he punched the walls, desperate to end it all, only to flood the entire house. Air was hard to come by as he felt himself drowning in the past. Clutching onto Jack, he struggled to keep afloat. Another sip and Jack instructed, _burn down the house and it will stop_. “I want it to stop, not for everything to go away forever,” Soldier replied, his syllables blending together. _Then get out of here._

That was all it took for Soldier to trudge out of the house, inside the workshop, and to a vinyl record player in the corner. On it's turntable rested the Johnny Cash album that Engineer had borrowed from him. Perhaps with Jack and Johnny together, he would find a healing distraction he craved for so long. After turning the dial to "on" and dropping the needle close to the first groove, Soldier leaned his back against the sturdy wall and slid down until he sat on the concrete floor. The familiar rocky guitar was something his soul snatch up in an instant, clutching tighter to those notes than he had in any previous listening. He pressed his lips against Jack’s and took in a portion more of his comfort. There was nothing but country music and the burn in his throat. Nothing else. At last. He took another shot from Jack and closed his eyes to allow his heart to absorb Johnny's raspy voice. Finally something was working. 

As if discontent knew he floated idly in comfort, the events of that day flooded into his mind in a monstrous wave. Soldier was caught off guard and found himself toppling overboard into its chaos. He could see that morning so clearly. All those people in one building overflowing out into the halls. So many people he didn't recognize. Only a handful that he did. He took another shot to flee away from visual playing but he was caught in it its chilly waves. Oh, god, now he could hear them, loud and clear as if they were there within the workshop talking to him. “I’m sorry. You’re in my prayers” they said. “I’m terribly sorry.” “I know you’ll be alright in time. I’m sorry.” “I’m so sorry for-“ Soldier reached up to make Johnny sing as loud as he could. It was no use. The influences he wanted to hear were no match. They were only a whisper in the hurricane. No one could rescue Soldier. God, everything was so vivid. The apology in those eyes, the sorrow in their voices, all those gifts of sympathy he didn't want, and Engineer was...

Soldier tilted Jack high and allowed his brown contents to rush into his mouth and down his throat. No more. For the love of God, no more. His throat began to burn as if someone had placed a lit match inside his Adam's Apple but he didn't care. The only thing to make him tear away was his body’s need for air, causing him to cough the pricy liquid onto the floor. A few coughs later and his lungs found the air it sought. It was then he could hear Johnny sing:(A/N: [listen along?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJSLTrf8F3A))  
 _Well, you ask me if I'll forget my baby_  
 _I guess I will, someday_  
 _I don't like it but I guess things happen that way_  
 _You ask me if I'll get along_  
 _I guess I will, someway_  
 _I don't like it but I guess things happen that way_  


_God gave me that girl to lean on_  
 _then He put me on my own_  
 _Heaven help me be a man_  
 _and have the strength to stand alone_  
 _I don't like it but I guess things happen that way_

_You ask me if I'll miss her kisses_  
 _I guess I will, everyday_  
 _I don't like it but I guess things happen that way_  
 _You ask me if I'll find another_  
 _I don't know, I can't say_  
 _I don't like it but I guess things happen that way_

Soldier joined in on the short chorus:

_God gave me that man to lean on_  
 _then He put me on my own_  
 _Heaven help me be a man_  
 _and have the strength to stand alone_  


but his voice disappeared before he could finish. The only thing he could do was to stare at Jack in his midnight black label, watch the liquid within him twirl with each tilt of his hand, and be convinced that he needed more. Slowly, he partook another sip then rested the bridge of his nose against Jack's neck with his eyes clamped shut. "God gave me that man to lean and he put me on my own," he whispered. Quietly, he repeated it, over and over until his voice faded away along with the sparse light from the sun. 

Johnny had stopped playing his rocky guitar. Soldier took another sip. Jack rushed out with evidence that Soldier did force himself to eat earlier that day. Whatever food he ate wasn’t much, just enough to shut Demoman up when he saw him that morning. Resting his lips back upon Jack, he intended to have another long kiss when something caught his eye. Somehow, for the first time, he noticed something illuminated by the gentle glow of the moonlight. It was a strange thing sitting on the metal table. Sure, Engineer made many things he found strange, but this was an interesting strange. He rose to his feet and swaggered. Why were his footsteps wobbly? After all, he was walking how he normally walked, one foot in front of the other, so it didn't make sense to him. Perhaps his feet were rebelling. That's the last thing he needed. Growling, he supervised as the left foot advanced then the right foot then the left foot until he bumped into the table. 

With his hand firmly around the neck of the bottle, he slammed it on the table and looked at the thing. It was a khaki green metal box with built-in speakers and a security camera screwed on top. In the center of the box was an emerald button. Slowly, he looked to the left, then to the right. He punched the button. A ruby light blinked above the lenses that began to focus on his face. Soldier raised his eyebrows and watched the mechanical device with wide eyes. A "howdy" echoed from the stereo. It's voice was distinct with a warm Texan drawl. Only one man had that voice.

"Dell," Soldier exclaimed. “Oh my god! Dell, is it really you?”

"Well, guess you can call me Dell," the voice replied. "The feller that made me told me he was Dell. I’m Dell, too. Well, for the time being. He still hasn’t picked me a better name yet, far as I know."

"Where are you?"

"I'm here, plain as day, hoss!"

"Ha! You can't fool me like that, Dell!” Soldier jabbed his index finger into the stereo. “You're too fat to fix into that box! Not even I could, well, maybe I could fit in there if I tried." Placing his hand flat against the face of the box, Soldier judged how well he could fit. 

"You go 'round callin' every contraption fat? Ain't nobody fittin' in here anyhow!" The camera tilted downward. "Woo-wee." A zoom of the lenses allowed the machine to see that the bottle was nearly half empty."You went and drank all that yourself?" As if it needed to ask. Between how Soldier's words blurred together and the red tint to his cheeks, it was evident that he was the only one to drink from that bottle.

"No I coughed about that much out," Soldier replied, using his hand to show how much of the bottle he thought he spat out earlier.

"That much? On the floor? Boy, that's alcohol abuse where I come from." Upon the table, Soldier collapsed in a heap of hysterical laughter, pounding down on the table with the bottle. "It wasn't that funny." About three hours ago or even a week ago, Soldier would have only chuckled at the small joke. Perhaps part of him appreciated humor more after tragedy; but mostly, he knew he was laughing mostly because that’s exactly what Engineer would say. That was how Engineer talked, how Engineer sounded, oh god, it was Engineer. His soul floated with the warm energy of life that accompanied the mist of this charitable miracle. God heard him and answered his prayer after all. Whatever burdens Soldier felt within the past few days were allowed to evaporate from his skin. Between the alcohol in his system, the joke and the relief that he knew his emotional trial was coming to an end, Soldier couldn’t be quiet. His thunderous laughter filled the room to the extent that the machine wished it didn't have a microphone built within the camera. 

Soldier calmed himself down enough to ask, "where are you hiding, Dell? I know you're hiding and speaking through that thing! I knew you had to be hiding all along!"

"Told you, I'm here. Ain't hiding nowhere. If'n'ya mean Dell Dell, not me Dell, I don't know where he is now. Only saw him once when he booted me up. Said he was going to get someone and ain’t been back yet." 

That answer was all it took for the man to look. First, Soldier peered under the table, then around it, the walked circles in the small building, bellowing out Engineer's name and carrying his bottle as he went. Finding himself at the table again, Soldier pointed at the camera. "Where is he," he asked in a stern tone.

"Didn't I tell you I don't got a clue? Ain't there a house nearby? How's about you go meander through there and see if you find him?" It watched as Soldier began to wobble towards the door then called out, "and how's about you leave that bottle right here?”

"Good idea," Soldier replied, heading back to the table. "I don't want Mr. Daniel’s to get lost. He's a good friend of mine!"

"I can see that." The lenses zoomed out to make sure the bottle was left behind on the table. "Don't worry your little head none about Mr. Daniel’s. I'll keep him company."

All of Soldier's strength was invested into opening the door. "I'll be back with my Dell Dell and we'll come in here and I'll prove he's too fat to fit in your tiny-ass box!" Instead of turning around to shut the door, he swaggered towards the house.

Though the house wobbled while he walked, he kept walking around, yelling, “come out, Dell Dell, I know you’re fat but it’s alright! I know you’re here so come out here Dell Dell!” As soon as he came to the bedroom, he stopped. Of course Engineer was hiding in the closet. He just knew it. When he opened the closet and there were only clothes, he knew he was in a secret part of the closet. He needed to get the jump on him. A simple plan was formed. “Well, I’m just going to lay on this bed,” he slurred loudly. “I’m going to close my eyes and not be awake when you come out.” Closing his eyes, his plan was set into action. Pretend to be asleep on the bed and leap upon Engineer when Engineer went out to grab beer. Perhaps yell at him before making love to him. A simply brilliant plan, if he did say so himself. So he closed his eyes, mumbling about how he was asleep, until his plan backfired. For the first time in nights, Soldier easily drifted into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have at least two more chapters I have already written but I'll post them later. Lord knows I must be a procrastinator in all things! And I know there was a lot of sad in that. Here, have a little [cute something](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAIGb1lfpBw) to cheer you up if you need it! Least I can do, darlin'. Also, _Guess Things Happen That Way_ was written by Jack Clement, sung by Johnny Cash, and recorded by Sun Records in 1958.


	2. It's Broke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this of a flashback/in case you weren't catching what I was heavily implying earlier chapter. Much feels. Prep yourself.

The night before Granary was when she called.Hardly ever did Miss Pauling call any of the mercenaries unless it was a mission or something dire. When he picked up the phone, amazed the cord wasn't chewed apart by raccoons, he assumed it was a mission. And how he wished it was a mission. One of the young woman in purple talents was hacking into police radio conversations. That's how she was able to know when one of her nine men had been arrested before Teufort caught wind. Only fifteen minutes prior, she heard a police squad confirming they discovered a body at a bottom of a cliff in an overturn, beaten truck. The name on the license on the body they found was Dell Conagher. No clear cause was identified and there was no medical staff present but Dell was confirmed as dead. 

It was a night Engineer wanted to spend time alone to work. Soldier didn’t think anything was strange when he hadn’t heard or seen Engineer since they left Double Cross. If only he was there. Maybe, just maybe Engineer wouldn't have went along that windy back road along the cliff. If anything else, he wouldn't be alone...

Everything scattered away in an unseen wind from Soldier. All his dreams of a future with Engineer, his will to be that became founded upon Engineer, the energy harboring within him, everything was fleeing out of him and there was nothing within him to snatch it before it could fly away. Even if he did try to reclaim those pieces of him, he was certain it would dissolve in his palms. As if he she could hear the silent wings of dreams flutter away, Miss Pauling said he could be excused from battle. But he stated that no man fighting in Germany was excused to mourn the loss of their loved ones. Besides, he had the faint hope that he could lose himself within the battle. That through rocket fire and bullets, the pain that throbbed within him would become numb. With a promise that she would keep him updated and expression of sorrow for his loss, she hung up.

Apparently, everyone else was informed of Engineer's death for all eyes went to him the moment he entered the briefing for Granary. Eyes of otherwise sturdy men that were soft and held him as if his bones were porcelain. No one spoke but he could hear their words of pity echo off the walls loudly. Even if he felt weak, he faked unwavering strength. Just to make them think he wasn't suffering. Anything to shut them up. Anything to get through the day.

The Announcer proclaimed that the battle would soon begin. Acting as if he didn't realize Engineer wasn't there, he gathered up his weapons. The siren wailed. He ran onto the battlefield, forcing his mind into a state of normalcy. Some cruel act of fate made him turn around upon stepping near the point. On that walkway should be a despenser. There should be a sentry gun springing legs and nearly ready to take life. There should be his Engineer. But there wasn't anything up there and there never will be again. And Engineer would never be standing up there, or wave to him, give him a kiss after a long, hard victory...he heard a gunshot and felt a sharp pain. Two more bullets, two more pinpointed bits of pain and he closed his eyes. 

Everything was dark. The sound of a door opening caused him to open his eyes. He was standing in the respawn room. Why didn’t Engineer respawn? When they died, they would respawn so why didn’t…maybe he really wasn’t...Soldier walked onto the battlefield again, no weapon at the ready. This time, when he stepped onto that point, more enemies were there. His body rapidly took the bullets. The world went black for a little longer. He was in the respawn room again. Why didn’t Engineer respawn? Why did he respawn? He died and he was in respawn. Engineer died but he wasn’t in the respawn. How come Engineer didn’t appear but he did? Maybe Engineer wasn’t really dead, like he knew in his heart. Engineer couldn’t die in a car accident like a civilian! Yet he knew with up-most certainty that Miss Pauling wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this. Maybe she wasn't aware that Engineer was still alive. Or she couldn't remember that the respawn brought everyone back to life. Maybe if he stayed dead a little longer, he’d find Engineer, stuck between darkness and respawn. He would hold him close to his body, kiss those smooth lips, and drag him back into the respawn. Yes, he would find his love in those precious seconds between death and life.

Across the dance floor, decorated with human remains,crimson ribbons and empty shells, he performed his waltz to a band of gunfire and screams to keep the four-four time.Death darkness loneliness respawn, death darkness loneliness respawn. Turning with each step, his eyes wandered to find his partner along the sideline among the other dancers. All around the walls’ edges he looked but no one waited for him to take their hand. Still he danced, searching for his other half until the gate rattled its taunt in his ears, reminding him that though he may hope with all his foolish being, though he may try as hard as man could try, though he may travel until the end of time, he would forever waltz alone.

Soldier began kicking the respawn door until he saw Medic out of the corner of his eye. His hand quickly grabbed the doctor by the collar and held him in place. “Medic,” Soldier yelled, “this equipment is faulty!”

Looking at the door then at Soldier, Medic replied, “the door appears to be working.”

“No no no! The respawn itself! It’s broke!” As Soldier pointed to the door, it opened to expose the room where everyone appeared after briefly meeting their end. “If you haven’t noticed, it keeps allowing us to come back after we die but one of us is stuck!” Against his knuckles, he could feel Medic taking a deep breath while his eyes remained fixated on him. “It’s broke! You have to fix it!”

“Soldier,” Spy muttered into his ear, “let him go!” 

“Beat it, Frenchy,” Soldier ordered. If the Frenchmen was sneaking back into respawn or if he had appeared in respawn, Soldier didn’t know or care. All he knew was that a thumb burrowed into the pressure point on his neck, forcing him to release Medic. Before Soldier could go after Medic, Spy grabbed him by the wrist. Soldier reached around and punched Spy in the nose. Ignoring the puddle of blood his mask was absorbing below his nostrils, Spy twisted Soldier’s arm behind his back, locked his elbow over Soldier’s free elbow, and kicked Soldier behind the knee. Bitter growls poured from Soldier as he was unable to resist being dragged into respawn. 

In an attempt to look Spy in the eyes, Soldier turned his head and yelled, “you know how this respawn works, don’t you? You snoop around everywhere so you know! You know that it’s-“

“Soldier, please,” Spy said in a calm tone, “come to your senses. I know that is rather difficult for you since I am certain you lack the ability to retain common sense but please try.”

“You’re the one that’s not coming to their senses! For someone that’s so damn smart you’re being really damn stupid!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes! You can’t see that the respawn is broken though it’s obvious! Miss Pauling herself said that Dell was dead! He shouldn’t be dead, he should be respawning!”

The grip around Soldier’s wrist loosened slightly. “It is not broken,” Spy said. “I have been watching you, deliberately walking into the line of fire. Each time, you come back. Each time, Engineer does not. It works though Engineer does not come back. And he won’t come back.” When Soldier tried to move, Spy tensed back up, pressing Soldier’s arm a little farther upward. “You’re not even trying to fight!” 

“I was looking for Dell. I,” Soldier caught a tear in his voice and recovered. “Maybe, maybe Miss Pauling was wrong. Maybe he is alive. That must be why I can’t find him.”

Spy exhaled a trembled breath. “Soldier, I realize that you are distraught at the loss of your boyfriend. No one is justified in blaming you. Everyone knows how much you loved Engineer. You are lost in a sea of despair. I understand-“ 

Flinging his head back, Soldier hit Spy in the forehead. The sudden, intense pain caused Spy to weaken his grip just enough for Soldier to rip away. Soldier turned around and punched Spy on the cheek. “No you don’t,” he yelled, grabbing Spy by the coat. Rapid footsteps carried him and the thinner man to the wall. A groan of pain erupted as Spy's spine thrust against the wall. “You might think you fucking know everything but you don’t know me! You don’t fucking know and you sure as hell don’t understand! Even if he was really stuck dead, a sorry or understanding wouldn’t fucking bring him to life!” Spy was slammed against the wall again. “But I bet you knew that the respawn wasn’t working! Or did you hide Dell somewhere and fake his death? I bet you did!”

“Oh please! I’d never do such a thing! Besides, the respawn is working!”

“Bullshit,” Soldier yelled, slamming Spy again. “It’s not working and you know it!”

“It is working,” Spy stated, “and you know it. Just like you know I didn’t kidnap him.” He braced himself to be struck against the wall once more. The two men stared at each other in silence, ignoring the other than appeared from thin air and ran into battle. The gate rattled as each living person left to claim the last point. 

“So why isn’t Dell back if it's working,” Soldier finally asked. Instead of answering, Spy continued to glare at him. A glare that said, _you know why_. “Why can’t the respawn bring Dell back?” Silence. “You know everything! Tell me!”

“Soldier.” Spy took a deep breath. “It’s natural for you to be in denial.”

“I’m not in denial! If he’s dead, we can-“

“Try to let yourself understand. We can’t -. ”

“Why the fuck not?” Soldier’s knuckles turned white.

“Soldier, listen to me-“

“He’ll be back! He can’t-“

“I have the documents of his death!” Spy’s face remained sturdy. “I was suspicious of Engineer’s death so I went here and there. In my inner coat pocket is a copy of the death record, a detailed police report of the scene and photos. I am not a charitable person but after watching you, I thought it would benefit your senses to see them. Perhaps, if anything else, it will make you realize why Engineer is unable to respawn.”

A death record wouldn’t solve the issue of Engineer not respawning. Though, if Engineer really was dead, really really dead, his death would be officially recorded. “Prove it,” Soldier muttered, dropping Spy. As he flexed his fingers to circulate blood back into them, he watched Spy. Slowly, the manila folder emerged from beneath the pin-stripe coat. Not once did their eyes part from their glare, not even as Soldier snatched the folder from the gloved hand.

“You’ll find the details upsetting at the very least.”

Soldier ripped the seal off the opening, and drove his right hand inside while his left ripped the envelope down the middle. Throwing the envelope over his shoulder, he held papers in his hand. That’s when he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tilted his head down and opened them.

Faint gray scratches covered the pages; however, those scratches didn’t diminish the authenticity of the papers. _State of New Mexico-Department of Public Health Standard Certificate of Death_ was on the top of the paper. His eyes skipped downward to physical description. Soldier’s breath wavered upon seeing the accurate details of his beloved. All except the box that read, _6(a)Single, Married, Widowed, Divorced: Single._ That was a lie. Engineer wasn’t single. Of course they couldn’t marry but he always made for damn sure that everyone knew he was lucky to have that man. Why couldn’t it read _6(a) Taken, 6(b) Committed Boyfriend, 6(c) Jane Doe_? It was as if boxes 6a, b and c were there to punish him for not being able to legally bind himself with Engineer like he always dreamed of.

He forced himself to move along, clinging to any hope that there was a lose end within the printed information. The date on the record was the day before. Then, his heart paused. _Immediate cause of death: fracture of skull and spine, internal injuries Due To: truck-truck collision, high fall_ , made official with the signature of the coroner. He tossed the certificate to the floor, revealing a brief police report. The scene was as Miss Pauling told him but more detailed. The truck in that report sounded just like Engineer’s. The body found on the bottom of the canyon had injuries fitting the death record. The description of Engineer’s appearance in general was too basic for Soldier’s taste. Every bit of his man was handsome. Nothing but the best adjectives was acceptable. Then he allowed the report to fall down. His soul shattered into a thousand pieces when he saw the four-by-fives.

On top, preserved in on a glossy black and white, was Engineer. Clamping his eyes shut, he saw the man he had loved for years in vivid detail. A smile so handsome he couldn’t describe it with words. Eyes so gorgeous that every star on a clear night was jealous. A soul so beautiful that any artists that saw it would strive to recreate it, only to fall short every time. There were so many ways that Engineer was handsome that Soldier couldn’t contain them on two pages. Even years into their relationship, Soldier couldn’t believe Engineer was his. Painfully, he opened his eyes to the truth.

The helmet shielded his eyes so Spy couldn’t see them turning red; however, they could do very little for tiny streaks of water trickling down his cheeks. That handsome smile was transformed in a hideous frown. Those gorgeous eyes were forever sealed beneath eyelids. So many bruises covered his pale face. Surely, when God reached down to claim Engineer’s soul, that he had cursed Engineer’s body with a flat, disheartening appearance. That way, when Soldier looked upon him, there would be no doubt in his heart that there was no shred of beautiful life within the person he loved beyond the words he had. 

Faint clanking of high heels came towards him and stopped an inch away from his right. Soldier barely watched Miss Pauling take the photos and remove the information from the floor. Through the enormous sound of his entire being decomposing inside him, he could barely hear her say, “I should have known better than to allow you to come into work today. I had hoped that fighting would help you cope; but letting you step onto the battlefield so you can absorb bullets is not an effective way to help you.” Soldier took a long, shaky breath. Miss Pauling sighed. “It’s clear that you’re not yourself. I'm not the only one concerned about you. Your team is also worried. They cannot function well if you cannot play your part. Everyone loses moral when they watch you willingly get shot. We cannot help you in the mist of battle. The only thing that can help you is time.” She paused. Soldier failed to comment. “Between the sake of the team and your own sake, I have arranged to give you leave until it is determined that you are fit to return. Effective immediately. And yes, that means I will visit to see how you’re holding up.” Turning to Spy, she added, “and since you divulged further information to Soldier before I could, you will help me. Unless you want to report that you trespassed instead.” 

“Very well,” Spy muttered.

“Believe me, Soldier, when I say that I barely saved you from being fired today and that I am doing this for your own good. On that note, if you do appear on any terrain being fought between RED and BLU before I give you permission to, you will be fired.” Standing firmly, she waited for confirmation that he understood. Blue eyes locked on her through a helmet as Soldier attempted to say one way or the other. His voice didn’t to come forward. There was no energy to speak, or to even feel. No spark of life existed in him that wasn’t devoted to Engineer. And Engineer was gone. Over the intercom, their victory was announced. “That is all I need to say. You may leave now.”

Spy approached the young woman. “Miss Pauling, a moment of your time?” Miss Pauling tilted her head to the side as the Frenchman whispered to her behind a hand. Standing on the toes of her muddy shoes, she whispered into the mask-covered ear. A cigarette was placed between his lips as Spy commanded out loud, “come along, Soldier.”

Upon weary feet, Soldier left his shotgun and rocket launcher behind to blindly follow Spy and sit in the Mustang convertible. Uncomfortable silence filled the seats on the way to the raccoon sanctuary, too stubborn to leap away in the wind though the top was down. When they came to a stop, Spy placed his hand on Soldier’s shoulder. Looking up, Soldier waited for Spy to say he was sorry for his loss. Instead, Spy told him, “be strong.” Soldier stepped over the car door. As soon as the Mustang ran back onto the road, furry creatures surrounded him.

Be strong. What was strength? The idea of anything more powerful than weakness was incomprehensible. No just incomprehensible, unobtainable. How dare Spy tell him what to be! How was strength even possible without Engineer? And Engineer was...Engineer was...

He was gone.

The troops scattered the moment he ripped off his helmet and hurled it into the brick walls of the sanctuary. They hid in all corners of any available hiding places when he screamed; throwing his hand grenades as far as his arms could launch them.

“Why did you take him, God,” Soldier cried towards the sun. “I need Dell!” Kicking the door open, he noticed a trail of muddy footprints going inside. Not raccoon feet. The feet of someone with a tiny shoe size. He sprinted alongside them. All the guns and rocket launchers in the cabinet Engineer had built him on their anniversary were missing. Bright, dreadful sunlight broke in through the window. He looked straight into its omniscient beams. “You take my man and then you take my American-made firearms? Fine, keep my damn weapons!” Blind rage caused him to take the cabinet by the sturdy back and shove its frail face upon the wooden floor. “Give Dell back!” A nearby box crumbled beneath the weight of his foot. “I love him more than anything!” The coffee table was cast into the wall where it cracked down the middle. “I love him and I need to tell him again! I need him back!” His withered couch was kicked upon its back. Books were flung through the air. Porcelain broke against brink and floor. “I need him! I’m not ready to let him go, I,” Soldier dropped to his knees. Tears dribbled from his eyes into his speech. “I’ll never be ready to let him go. I’ll do whatever you want. Please. I love him.” 

The bright light abandoned him. Soldier was alone.

It was then he remembered. No one could respawn if they died outside the battlefield.

He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have made myself cry. Here, we need [puppies.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yefLspYrYOg) And I notice now a lot of "S"sesesessss. But I had to pick Spy. A lot of people characterize him as being a dick 100% of the time. I don't think he is so I put him in this to show that he isn't. Or, at least, to show that I think Spy has a good side to him outside the battlefield. 
> 
> And as far as there now being seven mercenaries, I did wonder about that after I wrote this. But since they had countless BLU Soldiers in Meet the Medic and since you can have multiples of the same class in the game, they could have a few extra Demoman/Heavy/what have you to make up for Soldier and Engineer not being there. Plus I think if someone died, they would soon replace that person with another. Just my thoughts.


	3. Breakfast Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is that thing anyways?

Morning sunlight crawled through the window of Engineer’s bedroom, over the creaky hardwood floor, and wiggled its way between Soldier’s eyelids. The bright rays woke his brain, causing it pound like a pow-wow drum against his thick skull. “Christ,” Soldier muttered, bearing the small pain that came when he gradually opened his eyes. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to recall the night before. Then he recalled the day before and decided to just stop thinking entirely. He stared down at the sheets and then noticed something. Not only were both his shoes and socks missing but his coat and tie were gone. Some thief must have taken them! That damned thief was going to pay for taking...no, the thief neatly folded them and left them on the floor. How nice of that thief. Soldier allowed himself to think long enough to remember the cure for a hangover. Sliding off the bed, he walked out to the hall. His bare feet didn’t care to avoid the broken bits and pieces that covered every inch of the hardwood floor. With the speed that would rival a snail, he went outside.

The shop door was open. There on the table was the whiskey. His eyes fixated on the glass bottle as he rushed to it and took the hair of the dog that bit him. Sighing in relief, he heard a mechanical rotating sound. His eyes inched over to that thing. That security camera on top a box. That thing he could have sworn talked to him in Engineer’s voice. Looking down at his bottle and smelling the puke on the floor, he wondered if he was only imagining it. After all, he had missed Engineer’s voice. God, did he miss Engineer so much.

“Ain’t you just a bright ray of sunshine,” the machine said with a cheerful voice. A voice just like Engineer’s. Soldier glared at it. “Kept ol’ Jack company.” But Engineer was dead. How was it possible? “Sure hope that that whiskey ain’t your breakfast!” It couldn’t be him. “That is your morning meal, ain’t it?” But it sounded so much like him. Said things in the way he would say it. “Surely it wasn’t your supper too.” No one else had that voice but it couldn’t be. “Was it?” If it was him, why would he fake death? 

Clutching the neck of the bottle, Soldier firmly stated, “Dell, this isn’t funny. If you’re alive, come out now.”

“It looked like you were dressed for a funeral. Your Dell, he wasn’t inside the house, was he?” Soldier didn’t bother to shake his head. “I’m awful sor-“

“Don’t say that word.”

The camera looked at the bottle in his hand and zoomed back in on Soldier’s face. “When’d you eat last?” Like when Miss Pauling or Spy asked him that question, Soldier didn't reply. Even to a voice so rich and filled with a simulated genuine warm, he wouldn't respond. Not about him barely eating a full sized portion the day before or that it came back up hours later. Not that among many of the things he felt for the past few days, hunger wasn't one of them. Not that if he ate, it was a piece of toast forced into his mouth whenever someone came to visit. “Tell you what, Jane, if you cook and eat a big ol’ bowl of grits, I’ll explain what I am. Got my own power source built in so I’m good for a trip. You ain’t gonna know nothing if you up’n leave me to eat your grits. Gotta see it for myself.”

Soldier leaned in and said, “I have ways of making hi-tech thingys talk!”

“And I got ways of keeping my mouth shut! So, take me on into the kitchen.” Zooming out, the camera watched as Soldier tried to pick it up without tipping the bottle of whiskey in his hand. After the fourth try, the attempts weren’t as entertaining anymore. “You oughta leave that booze on the table.” Soldier glared at it, then the bottle, then back at it, then purposefully tossed the bottle. Brown liquid and glass spread across the cement. Gasping, the camera tilted up. Engineer would cuss and avert his eyes when alcohol was spilled. How much like Engineer was that thing? Though he detested the idea of eating, he was curious. He slid his fingers under the stereo and carried the machine all the way to the kitchen.

Once a spot was cleared off on the counter for the machine, Soldier went to work. Under the left half of the broken table, he found the pot, its handle bent up at a ninety-degree angle. How he pulled that off, he wasn’t sure but he was impressed with himself. The container of grits was lying over the injured table with its contents fallen out. He shoveled up two large handfuls and dropped it into the pot after adding water. After prying the wooden spoon from the wall, he stirred and boiled until the grits were at perfection. Inspecting all the bowls, he found one that was only chipped on the side. That was better than being two halves like the other bowls. Upon the machine’s nagging suggestion, he added a slab of butter on top and maple syrup. Luckily, those were easy to find as he apparently didn’t wreck the fridge. For a drink, as the machine said he should have, he pulled out a carton of milk. 

“There now talk,” Soldier demanded.

“Nope,” the machine said. “You gotta eat it too.” Soldier shoved a whole spoonful of hot grains into his mouth, eyes wide and watery as he quickly swallowed the food that burned all the way down. “The whole thing. I’ll admit though, you don’t look comfy standing and eating. How’s about we have a sit-down? Got any chairs that ain’t broke?” Panning left and right, it looked and fixated on the living room. “How’s about that recliner there?”

Soldier didn’t want to sit down. He didn’t want to eat the whole thing. But there was no choice. If this what he had to do to know what that...thing...was, so be it. After balancing the bowl on the box, Soldier quietly trudged through the wreckage to the recliner. He hurled the recliner back to its petite legs and came back for the machine. Soon it was at his feet beside the milk carton and the bowl was back in his hands. Slouching forward, he slowly ate. 

“I guess I’ll go on and tell you who I am,” it said. Soldier put the bowl on the armrest and leaned in. “Jane Doe, you pick that on up! You just started so keep at it! I’ll talk as you go.” Growling, Soldier picked up the bowl. Barely another bite into the food he’d much rather not have, the machine asked,“ain’t you thirsty?” No, he didn’t want to be thirsty like he didn’t want to be hungry, but Soldier chugged most of the milk. White liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth. “Technically, I am Dell. But I’m not really Dell. You see, I’m a computer your Dell made. I was built to think like him. He gave me his voice so I talk like him too. Hmm, say ‘quantum mechanics.’”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

“Quantum mechanics.”

“That’s why. It don’t sound right when it ain’t got that Texan twang to it.” Soldier couldn’t help but chuckle at the observation. Then again, he always thought things sounded better when Engineer said it. “Anywho, he built me so that when he went to make contraptions, he had a second opinion that was just like his. Unlike him, I don’t feel. All I do is think. Dell thinks good too but he’s human. That’s where I come into play. I’m supposed to give him good input when he’s more or less going off his gut. Basically, I’m Dell’s brain in a computer.”

Grits spilled on the floor as Soldier rose to his feet. “You stole my man’s brain,” he asked in a thunderous voice.

“Dear lord, no! Just saying that I think like Dell again but in a different way! Sit your ass on down and-”

“Keep on at it,” Soldier finished Dell’s sentence in a tired voice. Bending over, he shoved the grains back into his bowl before sitting. “Sir, yes sir.” He continued to eat his grits.

“Y’know, Jane, you could’ve gone,” Dell paused as he analyzed the glare Soldier gave him. “Oh, a little dirt don’t hurt, I guess. Where was I? Oh, yes. Other than that, I’m nothing like him. Only got his name too cuz, like I said yesterday, he couldn’t think of anything nifty to call me. Got this here camera to see things, the box under the camera is the computer part with the stereo built in so you can hear me when I talk. That’s about it. Don’t you stop eating now though. That there’s good for you. ” 

So it was a simulation of Engineer. A simulation was better than nothing but nothing like who Soldier once had. Still, he recognized that this was one of God’s strange ways to answer a prayer so he couldn’t complain. As if He knew Engineer was about to die and bestowed the idea of creating this object to help him cope. Well, of course God would know when Engineer would die down to the last millisecond. Then again, if God knew Engineer was going to die, and knew how much Engineer meant to him, why did He allow Engineer to die? How could God know how much he loved that man and still take his man away? Was God somehow apologizing for...no more of that. Three days of asking those sorts of questions was enough for now. He was going to be grateful this thing, this Dell. Treat this Dell as if it were a piece of Engineer that fell from the sky and landed on that worktable. Despite how it pained him to know Engineer was not behind that voice. But, sweet Jesus, he needed that voice. To hear that voice say his name and maybe trick his mind to think...his name....he never introduced himself to this Dell. “How do you know my name,” he asked. 

“Surprised that you remember not giving your name after the night you had,” Dell admitted. “Well, your Dell loaded a few memories into my hard drive. Don’t ask how but he did. Not really memories of all his past so don’t go thinking I remember things he did or that I know people he knew. Most of them were past inventions so I could know what he was talking about when he referenced them. A few of the memories were of you. Only the good ones.”

“Oh.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time! I figure he had a giant haystack’s worth of good memories. He just probably couldn’t fit all of them. I’d like to think he included you because you were that important to him.” The camera glanced around at the damage of the house. “And by the looks of it, I’d say he was important to you too.”

“He is everything to me.” The only noise was the wooden spoon clanking against the bowl as Soldier stirred what remained of his grits. Knocks bombarded the door with a Scottish voice called out Soldier by name. “I’m in the living room, Tavish,” he yelled. Not that he necessarily wanted to see his friend. Dell was the first person he willingly spoke to in days. If history was accurate, Demoman would knock on the door until Soldier plucked enough energy to make the noise stop by either telling him to come in or opening the door. Then again, that was bound to happen when someone visited for the sake of visiting instead of analyzing your mental health. 

The door squeaked. “I see my first guess was-bloody hell,” Demoman yelled. “You have a fine talent of wrecking shit!” In what seemed about ten minute’s time, he entered the living room. “I can’t stay for very long, mate. Traveling from the raccoon sanctuary took away me time so I,” he sniffed, closing his eye, and opened it. “It was Jack Daniel’s, wasn’t it?”

“Who else,” Soldier replied. Demoman nodded knowingly. Picking up the carton, Soldier drank a little more milk.

“Ah, what’s this? Eating your fill? All on your own?”

“I am full and there’s extra in the kitchen. You can have the pot because the other bowls are broken.”

“Well, I,” before he rejected, he took a long look at Soldier. “Fine, I’ll have a meal with you.” Each step was carefully made as Demoman went to and from the kitchen. Upon his return, he had the pot in one hand and a potholder and spoon in the other. Soldier moved up to the left arm of the recliner for Demoman to sit on the right and placed the carton in the middle. With the potholder between the pot and his tight, Demoman ate Soldier’s cooking. “Not bad, mate.” Silent, they enjoyed their grits that, for once, weren’t overcooked. When Demoman finished, he patted the recliner cushion. “How’d this survive you’re drunken fury?”

“It got lucky I guess.”

“I was thinking that Dell invested in sturdy furniture so it wouldn’t break whenever you both shagged on it.” Noticing Soldier turn bright red and nearly choking on his grits, Demoman laughed. “Oh, aye, it did get lucky then, didn’t it?” Snorts fell in between his laughter. He nudged Soldier with his elbow. Finally, his friend was laughing too. After the laughter died down, he reached for the milk as he told Soldier how Doublecross went the day before. As he explained, Soldier stared blankly ahead, occasionally nodding, sometimes giving advice on strategies that could help for their future mission. The simple responses made the Scotsman grin wide. He was certain Soldier always appreciated knowing how his team was doing but he hardly gave much response until that day. Remembering that time was not his luxury, Demoman looked at his watch, glanced down at the floor and raised an eyebrow. “Well, the mission begins soon. Before I leave, what’s that on the floor?”

“This is Dell but not Dell Conagher,” Soldier explained. “He made me eat. Dell built him to think. He’s Dell’s brain in a computer.”

“Bloody hell! Your love put his brain in a computer?”

“Not literally! God, Tavish! I mean he thinks like my Dell did!”

“Ah, I see, lad.” Taking a sip of milk, Demoman raised an eyebrow. The camera tilted in his direction. 

"Yes, he-" Why was Soldier explaining Dell when Dell was very capable of explaining himself? "Dell!" Whacking his spoon on the camera, Soldier yelled, “Where are your manners? I know you have Southern hospitality programmed into your chips! Introduce yourself!”

The camera lashed in the direction of the spoon then adjusted itself to look at Demoman again. “Howdy. Name’s Dell, 'less you got a better name for me.”

Nodding, Demoman said, “I’m Tavish DeGroot. Unless you want to be called, ‘Dale’ or ‘Camera MacChine,’ I’m afraid I can’t think of a better name. At least not off the top of me head.”

“Those are mighty fine tries! Best keep ‘Dell’ 'til somethin' better rolls 'round. Don’t you worry none too much ‘bout it though. So, you boys known each other for a while?”

“Aye. We’ve been working on the same team for about seven year now. Speaking of work, I must go. I’m sure we’ll talk more on a later day.”

“Sure hope so.”

Placing the potholder then the pot on the cushion, Demoman stood. “Need any help cleaning up? I could stop by after Thunder Mountain. I don’t think this Dell will be much help unless his wee camera can pick up broken shit.”

Soldier said with a grin, “with how you work, nothing will be left of Dell’s house if you stop by afterwards.” 

“Right you probably are! Still got my number?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I might not be home but Tilly wouldn’t mind talking if you need anything. Over the phone’s safer with her. Out of whacking distance that way.” Demoman waved an invisible stick. He carefully walked into the hall then quickly returned. “Oh, and Jane, it was good to have laugh with you. Maybe next time we can laugh a little more?”

“Maybe.”

Smiling, Demoman walked down the hall. Dell tilted his camera as far as he could to watch his adventure to the door. “Sure seems like a good fella,” Dell said.

Soldier slowly nodded. “Tavish is a good man," he said in a soft tone. One of the few team members that came every day to visit to give unaccepted attempts at conversations with whatever meal Tilly made that night. "He’s been visiting me since my Dell died. Unlike Spy and Miss Pauling, he visits for no reason. Maybe to make himself feel better. I don’t know. I'm sure you’ll meet Spy and Miss Pauling later. They evaluate me." Yes, their formula for visits was very similar to Demoman's, except whatever they had to say was an attempt for information. It was more like he was their subject in an experiment. A mouse sitting in a maze as the scientist scribbled away the details in his unwillingness to participate. At least when the raccoons were much different. Those creatures knew he didn't want to talk so they were wise enough not to bother. "The troops live at the sanctuary so you won’t see them.” Really, why was Demoman so persistent in visiting? It was bad enough having the troops, Miss Pauling and Spy witness him sit alone with a spiritual plague that devoured his emotions like a starved wolf. Such a devastating event wasn't something he wanted the Scotsman to watch. Across his arms, he could feel it again. Those memories contained in the recliner, the broken bookcase, the hardwood floors. The memories he had successfully refused with Dell's help were crawling back. He had to get out. He need to go somewhere, anywhere.

“Would it be alright if you take me there," Dell asked. "I’ve never been to a sanctuary. Shoot, ain’t been anywhere.” A clank and shatter accompanied the dropped bowl as Soldier immediately picked him up. Unlike Demoman, he kicked everything in his way as he left.

Dell felt the warmth of the sun on his body, extending his camera upwards to absorb more. About halfway down the road, he asked, “so, whatcha gonna call me?”

“What do you mean? You’re Dell!”

“Well, sure, but that’s just a temp name. Plus, I don’t wanna go confusing your heart.”

“My heart won’t get confused. I know my Dell. So you’re Dell and you’ll like it!”

Dell hummed at the command. “Alrighty. I’ll go with Dell. Sounds rather computer-ish, don’t it? Dell. Howdy there, I’m Dell. Hmm. Dell. I do like it.” Through the open miles, he ran the name through his wires. He knew he wasn’t Dell Conagher but he was getting used to the idea that maybe, he too, was Dell. Dell The Computer. That rolled off the tongue rather well; or rather, he was sure it would if he had a tongue to roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is one of the main things from _her_ I wanted to use but made in a TF2 way. If you haven't seen the movie, there are this programs called OS1 that sounds, speaks, and thinks rather human like. They're customized to each person that owns them. But the OS1 is meant to be like a companion to interact on more of a friend basis while sorting through emails and all that jazz. When I thought of this, I saw Engineer making something like OS1 but with more emphasis on the thinking/problem solving side than the social side. So I don't see him giving his own program much in the way of its own personality on purpose. As we go along though...("Is that a hint?" "I don't know. Is it? He was asking Soldier how much he ate though he said he "doesn't feel". Don't know if you caught that but let that sink in.")


End file.
